


Tarn Drabble Dump

by elapuse



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:36:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elapuse/pseuds/elapuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn drabble dump, mainly Overlord/Tarn short fics, Pharma and the DJD shows up now and then. Not in any particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

First

    Overlord woke up to a really strange feeling.

    It was something he never felt before. Something very similar to a restraint; yet said restraint lacked determination.

    His outer sensors onlined one by one, starting from his spine, leading to his limbs. The source of his disturbance was now very clear: there was something clenching to his arm. Or rather, someone.

    Obviously, Tarn had locked himself around his lover's arm for quite some time; Overlord could even feel the energon running thin in that limb. The tank somehow managed to squeeze one of his arms under Overlord's huge mass, lifting the six-phaser's arm to a very uncomfortable angle.

    A few micro seconds later, he was finally conscious enough to realize that Tarn was actually showing a sign of affection.

    For the first time in seveal million years, Overlord was shocked.

    He was not shocked by the affection or by the body contact - their relationship had gone over that ages ago. What truly disturbed him was the intention of such actions.

    Four hours earlier, they splashed the walls with each other's energon and fluids. Overlord spared no effort when dissecting both of Tarn's legs, and Tarn's details in hateful words yet again impressed Overlord. They drenched themselves in sick, violent interface activities; all in all, it was very satisfying for both of them.  
But in that moment, Tarn was wrapped around his arm as if none of that ever happened.

    Overlord soon proccessed one question and two assumptions. Was Tarn conscious of what he was doing? And if he wasn't, should he be reminded of his current actions? And if he was, should he inform Tarn of said actions?

    The second assumption was immediatly neglected.

    The first assumption led to a simple conclusion.

    "Tarn."Overlord said in a dull voice. "Let go of my arm."

    The tank's engines let out a small roar. Tarn awoke almost immediatly, but did not move; his optics remained dim and offlined. It seemed that he had no intention of leaving his recharge.

    "Why should I?"

    Overlord tried very hard to resist the urge to rip Tarn's body off of the tank's arms.

    No. He wanted to save that for tomorrow.

    "Oh, about that. I just felt obliged to remind you of any actions...that you might have done out of unconsciousness... that could cause further discomforts in our...relationship. Yes. Let's put it that way."

    Tarn's optics flashed in the dark. He stared at Overlord as if he was trying to burn a hole in his face. Overlord stared back even harder.

    "Are you suggesting that my gesture is inappropriate in our relationship, Overlord?"

    "I'm very sure you would suggest the same if you were truly awake, Tarn.” Overlord grasped on to his last thread of patience. "Now, if you may kindly let go of..."

    "Will you just admit it?"

    Tarn snapped. His tone suggested he was hurt, or insulted; either way, it was beyond Overlord's understanding.

    "Admit what?"

    Tarn didn't reply. His optics squeezed and flared; the gaze under his mask was almost predatory. Overlord returned him with an unsatisfied, confused look.

    A moment later, Tarn chuckled. His voice regained the usual, elegant, rhythm; but all Overlord sensed was the evil intention rising in his tone.

    "Well, in case you haven't noticed..." Tarn's voice sweetend in a vicious manner. "It took me a very long time getting used to waking up in your arms."

    Overlord's optics opened wide. He quickly proccessed Tarn's words into a horrifying truth about himself; And when he finally managed to find the words to hide his own embarrassment, Tarn had already wrapped himself around the phase-sixer's arm. Although the tank's engine fell into the steady pace of recharge once again, his crutch yet held strong and fierce as always.

    Overlord stared into the ceiling, drenched in his own messed up thoughts and regrets. His desire for recharging was nowhere to be found.


	2. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overlord/Tarn drabble, but neither had any scripts in the fic. Mainly about Pharma trying to get useful imformation from Vos, about how Tarn got himself wounded in interface.

  "So, you were at the scene, Vos. Is that correct? "

  The masked decepticon nodded. He grabbed the back half of his seat, and leaned his weight on both arms. From his constantly kicking his legs, Pharma could say that he was either bored, or just reluctant to have this conversation.

  "And...I was thinking maybe you, could explain to me, how exactly Tarn got hurt. That much." Pharma squeezed each word out slowly. "It's very essential for me to decide the treatment. Currently, due to...certain conditions, the equipment we have at Delphi lack the conditions to penetrate all his internal armor to form a image."

  Vos spread and squeezed his optics, left and right. He intended to produce a sound only a sick turbofox should be making from his throat, but swallowed the Primal Vernacular words back with an attempt. Pharma knows he must be trying his best to form a sentence in Neocybex, but apparently that isn't working out very well. Of all the murders on this ship-why, why did it have to be him to be the only witness?

  "Maybe you could...demonstrate." Pharma flipped his hands in circles. "All I need is a general idea."

  Vos nodded again. He stood from his seat, began searching for a suitable puppet. The dozen bottles on the shelf caught his attention-he grabbed two of them and turned to face Pharma one more time.

  One bottle was raised. "Ta...rn."

  Another bigger bottle was raised. "Hiii...m."

  Pharma's nerves loosened at a point. This would be a lot easier for the two of them.   

  A spare datapad was picked up, and placed upon two bottle caps. This must be the berth, Pharma thought to himself.

  Vos placed the bottles on the desk before the newly installed "berth". He picked up the one representing Tarn with two fingers, and jumped it at "Overlord".

  Oh no, this wasn't the part he wanted to see. You really don't have to be so specific...Pharma was trying to say that, but he quickly reminded himself how and when most of Tarn's interface "accidents" occurred.  Maybe it's best to just let Vos show him the entire incident.

  The two bottles danced themselves onto the datapad with passion and lust. Now the topping bottle became the bigger one again, leaving the container of those purple pills shaking, trembling under its loom. What is left of those pills rocked along between glass walls, in what you could even say an erotic way.

  Pharma started to wonder if it would be possible for a cybertronian's optics to shatter at the mere sight of unwanted pornography. His brain module is heating up in most disturbing ways, indicating a possible mental breakdown in his mental codings. The last thing he would have wanted to see would be his own medical equipment making out with each other, but he forced himself to keep his optics locked on the stage. He had to watch. He had to understand.

  Vos' demonstration was both obscure and suggestive-it was stuffed with details Pharma didn't and would rather not understand. The two bottles swapped positions and rolled around the datapad for at least 3 times before they finally held still on the datapad, clinging to each other as if they actually had servos. The faceless decepticon placed his puppets at the edge of the "berth", and looked into Pharma's face to ensure he is still paying attention.

  "Is this when it happened? "

  Vos let out a huffing sound, and pointed out a finger as if he was about to release a grand finalle. He poked the larger bottle in the back, making it push the smaller bottle off its balance.

  Now, Pharma is just confused. He tried to make some sense out of the last scene, associating preliminary diagnosis with what knowledge he had obtained from Vos' demonstration, but he was still at loss. Tarn couldn't have possibly gotten himself hurt like this.   

  "I don't understand. What exactly did they do? Tarn's spine is in pieces right now, Vos. I need to know how it happened."

  Vos stumped his feet and almost jumped in irritation. He murmured something in Primal Vernacular, but that didn't help at all. After a few awkward seconds later, he returned to the desk with determination in his optics, grabbed the tilted bottle...

  And smashed it into the floor.

  Pharma's optics widened in shock and realization. He moved his view from the fragments on the floor to Vos-a thousand horrible,

  "You said you were resting on the shelf of the arsenal in the Peacful Tyranny, right? In your alt-mode."

  Vos nodded, for the third time.

  "And the central platform...the elevator platform, how tall would that be? "

  [This tall.] Vos drew a line from Pharma's table desk to the ground with his index finger, and then he pointed to the remains of "Tarn". [This tall.]

  

 

 


End file.
